Knut Hamsun

“The poet must always, in every instance, have the vibrant word... that by it's trenchancy can so wound my soul that it whimpers.... One must know and recognize not merely the direct but the secret power of the word; one must be able to give one's writing unexpected effects. It must have a hectic, anguished vehemence, so that it rushes past like a gust of air, and it must have a latent, roistering tenderness so that it creeps and steals one's mind; it must be able to ring out like a sea-shanty in a tremendous hour, in the time of the tempest, and it must be able to sigh like one who, in tearful mood, sobs in his inmost heart.”

“I can't even make up a rhyme about an umbrella, let alone death and life and eternal peace.”

“All of this happened while I was walking around starving in Christiania – that strange city no one escapes from until it has left its mark on him.”

“Nothing helped; I was fading helplessly away with open eyes, staring straight at the ceiling. Finally I stuck my forefinger in my mouth and took to sucking on it. Something began stirring in my brain, some thought in there scrambling to get out, a stark-staring mad idea: what if I gave a bite? And without a moment's hesitation I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my teeth together. I jumped up. I was finally awake.”

“And love became the world's origin and the world's ruler, yet littered its path is with flowers and blood, flowers and blood.”

“In old age... we are like a batch of letters that someone has sent. We are no longer in the past, we have arrived.”

“It was not my intention to collapse; no, I would die standing.”

“There is nothing like being left alone again, to walk peacefully with oneself in the woods. To boil one's coffee and fill one's pipe, and to think idly and slowly as one does it.”

“In old age we are like a batch of letters that someone has sent. We are no longer in the past, we have arrived.”